


Time For A Change

by FatalisticAttraction



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:03:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalisticAttraction/pseuds/FatalisticAttraction
Summary: That was when Draco received the second surprise that morning. Abruptly sitting upright in his chair, Draco leaned forward, eyes wide, mouth agape. "Bloody hell. Granger?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by Emma Watson's beautiful pixie cut! I think I'll have this separated into 3 chapters, so keep an eye out! This is my first time writing Dramione so please leave feedback! None of the characters are mine :'(

Her mane that had once framed her face was gone. The locks that would twist and curl with every emotion Hermione had lay in the trash , swept away to be tossed. Hermione felt along her temple, touching the feathery softness of her newly cropped hair. Tears pricked her eyes briefly as contemplated the magnitude of what she had done. Her hair had been a defining feature since she was young. The wild, bushy nest of hair she’d sported through her elementary years had made her identifiable nearly anywhere. As she grew older, the mass became easier to control until she had found herself with waist long locks of copper.  


Hermione had never thought herself to be too concerned with how she looked, but her hair was a source of pride. The curls had become part of her identity, a part of her confidence and comfort. Although many things had changed in her life since the Second Wizarding War, her hair had remained its beautiful self. Now, she was naked.  


Hermione stepped outside the hair parlor into the bright street where her dearest friend, Ginny, waited. The redhead stared down at her muggle cell phone, swiping left and right with no notice to Hermione’s approach.  


“Ginny? What do you think?” Hermione’s voice was thankfully calm, concealing her nervousness. Ginny looked up, and her jaw dropped. “HERMIONE!” The redhead gripped her arm tightly, eyes raking over Hermione’s new cut.  


“I thought you were going in for a trim! You didn’t tell me you were going to cut it all off. What… I mean, when did you decide to do this?” Ginny tried to hide her shock at the sight of her best friend’s practically shaven head. The younger witch searched Hermione’s face as she shrugged, not trusting her voice fully. “I just thought… it was time for a change.”  


Things hadn’t been easy for Hermione lately. After years of trying, her relationship with Ron had finally deteriorated into a sham of its former self. Even now, they could barely maintain a civil conversation between them. Bitterly, Hermione wondered if they could have salvaged their love life had she not found Ronald in bed with another with two months prior. Perhaps it had been for the best, in some twisted way, as it added the last straw to the camel’s back. They didn’t have to pretend to love each other anymore, or even tolerate the other’s presence. Now, for the first time since her school years Hermione was alone.  


She had been able to maintain a friendship with Harry, however, who was fully supportive of Hermione. When the news broke of Ron’s affair, Harry came to her side without a second thought. Even though Harry had been privy to most of their concerns about each other, he truly hadn’t thought Ron capable of such a spiteful act. With Harry’s continued friendship, Hermione was also connected to Ginny, who had become a dear friend years before. The younger witch did not hold Hermione accountable for her older brother’s actions.  


A grin broke across Ginny’s face. She grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her up the street.  


“I think you look amazing. Your cheek bones could kill someone you know? Come on, let’s go show everyone.”  


\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Few things truly surprised Draco Malfoy anymore. Years training to become an Auror had honed his senses to a fine steel. He no longer flinched when a wand waved wildly in his direction, or ducked when a particularly malicious spell came his way. No, nothing surprised him anymore. Or so, he thought. He found himself mildly bewildered that morning when a young boy stormed into his office with a stack of documents about some-creature-or-another, making demands.  


“MALFOY. Where do you get off puling the funding for my research? Not only does this not have anything to DO with your department, but you have no reason whatsoever to meddle in my affairs! Now months of research will be put on hold while I remove the hold you’ve placed!” the boy seemed to be addressing him, Draco noted. His voice was higher than Draco had anticipated, and there was something familiar about the accusing tone. While Draco tried to place the familiarity, the boy continued to rave at him.  


“I’ve HAD it with you interrupting my work because you find yourself bored. Get yourself a hobby, won’t you, and leave my work alone!” Palms planted on Draco’s desk, the boy huffed a breath and glared at the blond man behind the desk. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”  


Draco had remained silent throughout the tirade, waiting to puzzle out exactly what this familiar stranger was doing. Dismissing the feeling, he set both feet on the desk Cocking one eyebrow up, Draco smirked. “Who do you think you are, you git? You think you can just barge into my office, try to stir something up? Get out before I call security.”  


With that, Draco leaned back in his chair in a picture of nonchalance. He watched carefully as the boy turned an attractive color of crimson and began winding himself up for another bout of anger. His eyes trailed down, noting the feminine figure on the boy. He stared at the small hands on his desk, half tempted to nudge them off with his foot.  


“I’m not playing here, Malfoy. Either you can fix what you’ve done, or I’ll – I’ll” the boy faltered.  


“Or you’ll what? Just who are you, exactly? This is Granger’s department, and I don’t think she’d be happy knowing her assistant went out to fight her battles.” Draco sneered at the boy, his voice mocking. “Next time she thinks there’s a problem, you can tell her to talk to me herself. In the meantime, how about you fuck off?”  


A look of confusion crossed the boy’s face, their brows scrunching together. He shook his head while taking a small step backward. “Malfoy what are you talking about?”  


At that moment, Draco met the eyes of his strident assailant. Fine, long lashes framed green flecked caramel orbs. Despite being narrowed in suspicion and annoyance, they held a trusting quality to them. Overall, they were uncomfortably familiar.  


That was when Draco received the second surprise that morning. Abruptly sitting upright in his chair, Draco leaned forward, eyes wide, mouth agape.  
“Bloody hell. Granger?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the second installment. I've already begun working on the third part, so that should be up soon. Thanks for holding on - I know this is going a bit slow. Thanks for you kind words and please enjoy

Draco roared with laughter.

Hermione's cheeks burned and she clenched her jaw. How could he mistake her for someone else? She knew that the change in her hair had caused a stir around the office, but Hermione assumed her hair was old news by now. The first few days had been rough due to all the stares her appearance had garnered, and the whispers that came with those stares. Hermione had overheard the rumors being passed about her and Ron's relationship, how she had gone crazy and shaved her head, that she might be having a breakdown.

Maybe it was some sort of temporary insanity, Hermione conceded to herself. She hadn't wanted to become one of those women, the ones who were so desperate to cling to whatever scraps of relationship they'd had, that they never moved on. After all, Hermione was supposed to have married Ron, was supposed to bear several red headed children with him. Perhaps in her own desperation to separate herself from him, she had gone a bit crazy. Hermione shook those thoughts away, returning her glare to her ex-enemy whose shoulders heaved with laughter still. He wiped tears from his eyes as he looked her over again.

"Jesus Christ, Granger. You look like one of my mates. I wouldn't have recognized you if you hadn't been shrilling at me." He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, trying to calm his remaining chuckles. Her clothes hadn't even indicated who she was as she was informally dressed in her muggle clothes of denim and a sweater.

"So, what is this? Couldn't handle being the odd one out between Weasel and Potter?" Draco was still openly staring at her, a smirk curled his mouth upward.

"This," Hermione hissed, "Is me being angry over you pulling the funding for my research. I demand to know your reasoning." She slapped her palm against the stack of documents on the desk, trying to draw his attention away from her and onto the situation at hand. It wasn't the first time Malfoy had tried to meddle in her work affairs – he seemed to find a perverse pleasure in disrupting her work. Usually he didn't affect it too badly and she could work around whatever mess he made but this time he'd gone too far. She'd been working on a sanctuary for Griffins for months now, with almost all the preparations complete until she'd arrived to check up on her project at the Ministry early in the morning to find her project suspended. The authorization was from the one and only Draco Malfoy. That was how she found herself in his office, furious.

"Does Weasel like the page boy look? I always thought he'd be an ass man but clearly I was wrong." Draco avoided her questions, and glanced down at the documents Hermione gestured to. He seemed uninterested in her complaints, more curious about her damn hair.

"Ronald hasn't seen my hair. Can we please move on from this?" Hermione was seething – how like him to ignore her complaints. How like him to push her concerns aside even though it would affect her work for months if they didn't get the funding back. Draco looked back up at her and shrugged carelessly.

"Your little project is taking too long, spending too much money, and is wholly unnecessary. So why hasn't the Weasel seen it yet? You know I think I'd heard rumors about you recently. Something about a breakdown?" He was being cruel, and they both knew it. Hermione's relationship, or lack thereof, was no secret to anyone in the wizarding world. From the beginning, Ron and Hermione were pursued by newspapers and curious inquirers about their love. As soon as whispers began to circulate about Ron's affair, the papers were quick to cover the tragic loss.

Hermione stood straight, clenching her jaw. She wished she had her hair back, not just to quell the current conversation, but so that she had some type of concealment from Draco's prodding questions. She hadn't any bangs to drift in front of her eyes, no lengths of locks to tuck behind her ears to ease her discomfort. She felt naked and ashamed before Malfoy, which added to her anger.

"We aren't together anymore, Ronald and me. I caught him in bed with one of his old acquaintances and called it off. Satisfied? Because I'd rather discuss why you feel the need to be such a meddling arsehole. Obviously the Griffin project isn't spending too much money - Look I've brought the accounts to prove it. Now just because you're frightened of griffins doesn't mean- "Draco cut her off with a scoff and wave of his hand.

"Well, that's his loss then, isn't it?" His voice was even, the remainder of his humor at the situation had dissipated. "You've always been out of his league, much as it pains me to say, but clearly he didn't deserve your attention. Doesn't explain why you felt the need to seek a barber." Draco seemed as surprised by his own words as Hermione felt. For a moment, the man appeared...kind?

Hermione's anger faltered, her brows knitted together again in confusion. Her shoulders dropped and she leaned back to look at Draco better. His long legs were stretched comfortably under the desk, hands folded casually on his lap. The Auror robes he wore accented his frame perfectly, even while he was seated. Perfect blond hair brushed to the side, although small strands tried to fall across his forehead. She couldn't avoid his grey eyes, sharp and calculating, appraising her appearance. All-in-all, the image and conversation were confusing. He did not appear to be making fun of her, the cruelty of his previous statements seemingly forgotten. She didn't understand what was getting at.

"What are you saying? How is this relevant?" Draco's eyes on her were now making her uncomfortable. The Slytherin had never been particularly fond of her, and his insult-turned-compliment was out of their normal interaction. Obviously, she knew of Draco's dislike for Ron, but she had assumed that dislike extended to her as well. Certainly, he had never shown any indication that he liked her. The term Mudblood still fell from his lips regularly, but perhaps it had begun to sound endearing rather than insulting.

Draco sneered, breaking her away from her thoughts. Whatever softness had been about him just moments before was gone. "I'm saying you look like a pre-pubescent boy now. You have hardly any tits, no ass. It's no wonder Weasel wandered. Your rats nest was the only thing that made you look presentable, God knows why. Can't imagine he'll take you back now." His voice was cold and harsh, piercing straight to Hermione's heart. He stood up and gathered the griffin project documents into a neat pile before stepping around the desk to face her directly.

Hermione felt tears prick her eyes as her anger flared back to life. It wasn't the comments on her figure that hurt her, but the idea that Ron only liked her for it touched on one of her biggest insecurities. She scowled up at him, for he was several inches taller than her. Her palms itched, although this time she wanted to wipe that self-satisfied look from his face. He met her fiery glare with equal ferocity.

"Who is saying I would take him back, Malfoy?" Hermione's voice shook slightly. Draco leaned down slightly, their faces practically level. He could almost feel the warmth of her fury coming off in waves. Her face was crimson, partly in embarrassment at his proximity and partly due to her indignation. He reached to the soft down of her hair, cold fingers barely brushing along her temple. Hermione froze, startled.

"You're saying you wouldn't take him back if he begged? That you wouldn't go rushing back to the safety of little Weasel given the slightest chance?" Hermione shivered as his fingers lightly touched her skin. His breath washed over her in a cool minty cloud. The scent of cloves filled her senses as he moved closer, closing the gap between them until only a few inches remained. She felt the light touch of his other hand on the small of her back. Caught in the serpents hypnotic gaze, Hermione remained rooted where she was, muscles tensed. She couldn't quite remember why she had come to his office in the first place.

Hermione felt her eyes flutter shut as Draco's fingers moved down her neck, lightly tickling the spot behind her ear. Her skin was flushed from her earlier anger, and the feel of his cool fingers along her neck was like a soothing balm. She opened her eyes again to see him watching her intently, lips slightly parted. She couldn't remember being anywhere near this close to the man before, and therefore had never gotten the chance to truly appreciate his good looks. A lot had changed since their years at Hogwarts, and Draco was no exception. The beginning of a beard covered most of his chin and jaw, the sandy hair stood out against his pale skin. Without realizing, Hermione's gaze was fixated on his lips.

His fingers continued to make their way over her skin, barely touching, leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever they went. Hermione's breath hitched as he traced over her collar bone, her heart pounded in her ears. Her mind was too foggy to grasp exactly what was happening. She had been devoid of touch for so long; Ron had stopped touching her at all for months even before the affair. Draco continued to watch her reactions, showing nothing in return. One last pass over temple and he was cupping the back of her neck. Draco leaned down toward her with a soft inhale. Hermione closed her eyes once more, anticipating the feel of his cool lips on hers.

Instead, she felt his lips near her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. Draco licked his lips lightly before speaking. "You know, Granger..." He spoke in a low, deep voice that made Hermione's legs tremble, "I bet he would like to see you crawling back to him…on your hands and knees. I bet he wouldn't even have to beg for it."

Hermione's eyes flicked open. It was too much – his too close presence, his almost compliments, his touch, all of it. There was a particularly malicious look in Draco's eyes, an eagerness covered his face. It was almost as though he wanted to devour her whole. He was making fun of her. Had she really thought it was something else? Reality flooded back with a snap, and as Draco's fingers drifted to the soft spot behind her ear once more, Hermione whipped her hand across his face.

The resounding slap silenced the room aside from her strangled breathing. His grey eyes were widened in minor shock, before he fixed his face with his trademark smirk. Hermione ripped the documents from his desk and stormed toward the door. She turned just before exiting to find him lazily leaning against his desk, watching her departure. A red mark was beginning to spread across his cheek, she noted with satisfaction.

"Do not presume to know anything about me, Malfoy. You don't know a damn thing. You're going to fix the funding for that project. Now." she snapped before turning smartly and closing the door with a sharp click.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEEP BOOP. There's some Mature-esque stuff at the end of this chapter! If that makes you uncomfortable, please skip this! Otherwise, please enjoy!

Hermione spent the rest of the week pointedly avoiding Malfoy. It wasn’t difficult (they worked on different floors of the Ministry) but she felt better knowing she wouldn’t have run into him even on accident. Despite putting distance between herself and the man, Hermione found herself occasionally revisiting him in her thoughts while she sat at her desk. Every now and then, the thought of his cool fingers tracing her neck and his breath near her ear would creep into her mind and she would have to physically pull herself from those thoughts.

 _I will NOT pine over Draco Malfoy!_ She scolded herself and while she attempted to focus on her work. Strangely, Malfoy had buckled easily on the Gryphon project. Only two days after their encounter she received notice that she could continue work on the sanctuary. Hermione liked to think it had something to do with the red mark she’d left on his cheek. She’d thought about going to sneak a peek at him just to see the extent of the damage she’d done to his face. It was almost like they were in their 4th year at Hogwarts when she’d punched him in the nose. She’d felt immense pleasure at seeing her handiwork back then, just as she would have if she’d given herself the opportunity to see him now.

Instead, Hermione sat at her desk in the Ministry, pouring over the last details to finalize the Gryphon Sanctuary. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had been ecstatic at her progress and were eagerly awaiting the final documents to set the whole thing in motion. But the day had been long and truthfully, boring. Which is how Hermione found herself drifting off again in a daydream about the blonde wizard.

Idly Hermione wondered if he had jinxed her. It wasn’t like her to daydream, let alone daydream about such…intimate things. She scoffed at the idea (she wasn’t easily caught off guard with a simple jinx) but still…She chewed the end of her pen absently as she tried to keep her imagination on a short leash.

“Miss Granger?” A voice jolted her from her thoughts - _long fingers trailing down her spine, spindling down to caress her hips and thighs, bodies pressed together, the deep thrum of his voice against her neck_ – nearly causing her to jump from her chair. Hermione cleared her throat and turned her attention to the small woman peeking around the door of her office.

“Yes?” Hermione could hear the slight huskiness of her voice and fought down a blush. The woman was her secretary; a remarkably uninteresting witch with few outstanding characteristics. She had long brown hair and an upturned nose. The witch smiled in a knowing fashion at Hermione before making her announcement.

“Sorry to…interrupt. Mr. Potter is here to see you.” Her secretary pushed the door open further to reveal the wizard standing behind her. Hermione stood and moved around the desk as Harry thanked the secretary and shut the door behind him.

“Harry! It’s good to see you. How have you been?” They came together in a brief but tight hug.

“Been well Hermione. And uh…you?” Harry’s eyes drifted to her hair. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her since she’d cut it but he still needed time to adjust to her new appearance. The glance was fleeting but it did not go unnoticed by Hermione.

“I’ve been well too. Stop staring at me, Harry. This is old news by now.” She smiled gently and moved back to sit at her desk, gesturing for Harry to pull up a chair. She had finally gotten over the nervousness and annoyance that surfaced when she caught someone staring. Eventually everyone would see it as old news too. “What brings you by?” She began to straighten the papers on the desk as her friend seated himself.

“I know, I know. It’s just still a bit shocking. It suits you though.” He smiled sheepishly as he watched her fiddle with the papers before them. He pushed his trademark glasses further up on his nose. “I’m actually here on Ministry business. You’re almost done finalizing the Gryphon project?”

Hermione’s brows furrowed slightly. “Well yes – I’m just now finishing up. I had planned to turn this final proposal in before I left tonight.” Hermione pushed the folder of papers toward her friend. Her fingers moved to sweep imaginary hair behind her ears before she settled her hands together on the desk. “I know the timeline was uncertain after that bit with Malfoy but I have assured the Head that I’d get the proposal to him on time.”

Harry carefully lifted the folder off the desk and flicked through it, scanning the pages. “No, no it’s nothing like that. I’m here to tell you that the department wanted to honor you for such an achievement. They’d like to host a party to celebrate and asked if you might give a speech for the other investors. They thought if I asked for them you’d be more likely to accept.” Harry grinned at the brunette, knowing full well her distaste of parties. It wasn’t as though she were unsocial, but it was well known that Hermione preferred her work over social obligations. “It’s because of you that this project was able to come to fruition.”

Hermione grimaced, her nose wrinkling delicately. “I suppose I could say something. They don’t really need to do this though – hardly anyone cares about the project, let alone knows about it.” She knew this wasn’t entirely true; the sanctuary had been one of the department’s greatest achievements in the past few decades. In truth, Hermione had just known where to put the pressure to get exactly what she wanted whether it was debating the opposition or cleverly navigating through the various laws already in place. “You can tell the Head that, against my will, I will say a few words.”

Harry chuckled and stood up. He had the folder under his arm as he reached over the desk to give Hermione another half hug. “I’ll let them know you’ve wholeheartedly agreed. Let’s have lunch soon, alright?” Hermione stood and followed him toward the door.

“Of course. Tell Ginny I said hello and oh- it’s almost time for us to go out again.” Hermione smiled warmly at Harry, who returned the look.

“I will. Oh, Hermione, speaking of…” Harry trailed off, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He was halfway out the door and slowly shifting further out. Rubbing a hand across his forehead, Hermione noted he looked very tired. “Ron has been hanging out lately. Ginny’s been talking to him for a while. He says he’s changed and wanted to see you again.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “Is that so? Well you can tell him to shove it up – “

“Hermione.” Harry interrupted her before she could continue. Her teeth came together with a click. How could her friends think she would want anything to do with the man, after all that had happened between them. “Look you don’t have to agree to anything it’s just… Maybe you could give him a chance. Not romantically, obviously,” Harry added as Hermione opened her mouth again, “but it would be nice if you two could try to get along. Not even that but if you two could be civil, that would be a good start.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment before meeting her friend’s eyes directly. “I don’t want anything to do with him. Please.”

Harry looked at her, almost disappointed, before shaking his head. “Yeah, no problem. Listen I’ll talk to you later okay? You better start thinking of what you want to say in your speech.” He turned and walked down the hall away from her office. Hermione returned to her desk, sitting down in a huff. Honestly…

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco lit his third cigarette for the night while leaning against the outer brick wall of the Ministry. The smoke filled his lungs in that burning-yet-calming way it always did before he let it go in a breath. The street before him was full of witches and wizards going about their night, the lights suspended above them giving a warm glow despite the chill.

“That’s disgusting, you know that.” Zabini appeared next to Draco, seemingly from nowhere, nodding toward the cigarette disapprovingly. “Survive a war to die of a muggle poison, eh?” The darker wizard ribbed.< /p>

Draco rolled his eyes as he snuffed the clove against the bricks behind him. “It’s a nice past time.” He straightened his tie and began to make his way toward the entry. Blaise kept pace with him easily and they strode into the Ministry. Both wizards were dressed in almost identical formal robes. The black fabric was cut to perfection and suited them well. As they entered the building they received appreciative looks from staff members.

“Hey look, this little soiree might actually be fun.” Blaise murmured while gazing after a particularly beautiful witch. Draco slapped the darker wizard’s arm and pulled him toward the elevators. “Hey, hey.” Blaise protested. “What good is dressing up like this if we can’t even try to pull some tail?” Draco pressed the button for elevator and released his friend’s arm.

“Listen, Zabini. We’re here to look good as investors in this stupid project and then we can get on our way. Try to keep it together for twenty minutes, would you?” Draco’s voice was sharp, but the other wizard brushed it off. They both knew why they were there. They stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for the floor where the ceremony for the Gryphon project was being held. The doors opened, and Draco step out cautiously.

The entire floor had been witched to look like a small ballroom. Round tables were placed around the room with a small stage in front and a bar to the side. Draco was fairly surprised at the amount of people milling about the room, dressed in various amounts of finery. He hadn’t suspected the project had gained enough attention for this type of event. Draco spotted Potter and the Weaselette seated together at one of the tables and scoffed.

“Well, I need a drink.” Blaise looked underwhelmed. “You want one?” He offered to the blonde wizard.

“Sure.” Draco wandered to the table he was assigned, noting with a grimace that it was where the golden boy sat. “You brought a date to a Ministry event? How charming.” Draco eased himself into a chair opposite Potter and the redhead. “Even for you, Potter, that’s a lame move.” Draco smirked. He let his gaze fall over the little weasel, his eyes catching purposefully at her chest and hips. The maroon dress she wore was tight and showed her curves off fantastically, even while she sat down. The color contrasted with her pale skin and fiery hair. Malfoy wondered what Potter had done to snag a girl like her, even if she was a Weasley. Certainly, there wasn’t anything special about Potter (putting the whole “Chosen One” thing aside).

Ginny casually flipped Draco the bird (a particularly muggle-like move) before turning back to her boyfriend without saying a word. Potter smirked back, “At least I’ve got a willing date. Saw you drag Zabini in nearly by the cuffs.”

“Very funny, Potter.” Draco sneered, at that moment wishing Blaise would show up with the promised drink. Pushing back his chair he decided to seek out the other wizard. He found him at the bar chatting with another witch Draco identified as Daphne Greengrass. She was dressed in a black dress that left little to the imagination. Apparently, Draco smirked, Blaise didn’t mind that. He left his friend to his own devices and stepped to the bar.

“Firewhisky.” He demanded curtly. The bartender gave him a brief look before setting the glass and bottle on the bar before him. Draco felt that someone was standing close behind him and turned slightly, drink in hand, to glare down the nuisance.

“Malfoy. Your face seems to be clearing up nicely.” Hermione’s voice reached him before he could comprehend what he was seeing. The witch stood several inches taller in her black stilettos which showed off her cream white legs. A deep green dress reached mid-thigh, cinching at the waist with a black belt and buttoning dangerously low. She moved next to him at the bar, keeping a cautious distance. _Bloody hell_ he cursed inward. For a mudblood, Hermione looked downright delicious.

“Too bad your attitude couldn’t follow suit.” Draco spoke in a low voice, watching the flush creep up Hermione’s face as she tried not to notice his staring. He knew she had enjoyed the way he’d touched her in his office. He wondered if she thought about it at all since then. She gave him a look of pure contempt before turning to the bar tender.

“I’ll have the same, please.” Her voice shook slightly as she ordered. Draco raised an eyebrow at her. He’d never considered her to be the person to drink hard liquor, especially right before a speech.

“Nervous, are you? It’s just a few words, Granger. You don’t have to make it into a big deal.” Draco frowned, unsure why he thought he needed to comfort her. Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“I could use some courage, I suppose.” She tipped the glass back and closed her eyes against the burn. Draco did the same and let out a breath as the alcohol blazed to life in his stomach. She flicked her wrist and a small clock appeared on it. “I’ve got time for another drink or two.” He gestured to the bottle, to which Hermione poured them both another glass.

“I know it’s nothing big. I just hadn’t expected so many people here. Hard to believe anyone truly cares about Gryphons. I think they’re more interested in the aspect of something actually getting done around here.” Hermione scoffed. As she spoke, Draco continued to watch her. The light hit her face in a way he hadn’t seen before: her lashes left long shadows across her cheeks and her jaw was highlighted gracefully. As she tipped her head back for another shot, Draco caught himself staring at her neck. His eye drifted lower to where the front of her dress was opened tantalizingly. She opened her eyes again, looking more relaxed than she had been a few minutes prior. Hermione had been talking the entire time, he realized. He couldn’t recall the last thing she’d said.

“Do you often try to get drunk at these things?” Draco heard himself say. He steeled himself against whatever feelings were growing in his gut. He’d felt the same when she’d come blazing into his office, first time he’d seen her with her short hair. He wasn’t sure what had made him say the things he’s said. Hermione stared at him stonily.

“I need to freshen up.” She said, her tone was completely flat. Hermione turned and walked away from the bar. Shrugging, Draco drank his last whiskey. Shortly, a ripple of applause spread throughout the room. Three wizards stood on the stage at the front of the room looking very official. A tall woman with yellow hair stepped forward and began to introduce herself. She continued after the introductions, speaking about the Gryphon Sanctuary. Draco set his glass down, and noticed the bottle of Firewhiskey was already gone from the bar. The bartender was barely concealing a glare at him, washing the cups quickly. Draco assumed the bartender had removed the bottle as soon as his glass had hit the table. Draco smirked at the bartender for being so uppity. _Can’t have employees getting too drunk at an event at the Ministry,_ he thought.

“And now, to introduce the one responsible for getting this project off the ground and running: Miss Hermione Granger!” The woman clapped her hands together lightly, leading the round of applause. Everyone in the room looked around expectantly. As the crowd began to murmur in disbelief, the woman on the stage coughed delicately. “Well, perhaps we can get a word from her later. In the meantime, we would like to show how this little project progressed into its current success!”

Draco scowled. Hermione had just been at the bar with him. Surely it didn’t take that long to ‘freshen up’. She wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to bask in the limelight. Draco scanned the room for her. He spotted Blaise sitting at one of the tables, thoroughly occupied by the elder Greengrass. Knowing his friend wouldn’t be up for a while, Draco left the main room, searching for the restrooms.

He walked down a hallway and found the restrooms. He banged on the door of the women’s room, but got no response. He decided to enter the men’s room and pushed the door openly roughly. There, perched on the sink counter, was Hermione. She was seated with her legs under her, facing the mirror. The missing bottle of Firewhiskey was next to her on the counter.

“What the fuck, Granger? This is the men’s room, you know!” Draco snapped. "You missed your chance to give the speech."

Hermione looked at him in the mirror, her face drawn into a smirk. “It’s only a men’s room if there are men present, Malfoy.” The jab had no malice to it, and she had rolled her eyes as she said it.

“What is this?” Draco ignored her comment, gesturing at her. The room smelled of whisky. Draco moved to take the bottle off the counter only to find it empty. “Did you drink all of that?”

Hermione sighed heavily. “You know, I just wanted some change. Something different. I thought, maybe if I look different I’ll be different. I just wanted to change.” She reached up clumsily to feel the softness of her short hair. It had started to grow, albeit slowly. Instead of the curls she had anticipated, the hair on her head was now straight. “But this isn’t me. None of this is. Just look at me.” Her words were slurred as she spoke.

Draco came to stand behind nearly a foot behind her. He hadn’t expected her to be like this. Hermione had always been defiantly strong; her insecurities were always out of sight, she didn’t weep like the other women Draco knew. He wondered if this was the change she spoke about.

“What do you mean, look at you?” He asked, voice low. “I don’t see anything wrong. I mean, you’re drunk off your ass, yeah, and you are acting kind of pathetic right now but…” He shrugged. “Change is change. Doesn’t always happen the way you want.”

Hermione turned around quickly, “Shut up, Malfoy. You couldn’t possibly understand.” The words came out in a rush. She’d twisted so her legs dangled off the counter. Her face was flushed from the alcohol, giving her cheeks a rosy color. Draco blinked as her breath washed over his face, smelly strongly of cinnamon and whisky.

“I don’t, do I? You can’t be serious. I’m an ex-Death Eater. But you’re right, obviously I couldn’t understand the _complexity of_ – “Draco snapped at her, annoyed. Something flashed across her eyes, and she clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Did you jinx me?” She asked suddenly, cutting him off. The question was clear, alcohol did not muddle the words. Hermione’s brow furrowed in concentration.

Draco slapped her hand away from his mouth. The feeling was back in his stomach, roused by the heat of the argument. It whispered, urging him to reach out and grab the back of her neck, to bring her closer. Her dress had risen to the top of her thighs as she squirmed on the counter, one shoulder of her dress drifted down. His chest tightened as he realized just how close they were.

“What?” He registered the question she’d asked. “No! For Merlin’s sake, what do you take me for?” He retorted. “I’m not a goody two shoes like Potter or Weasel but - “

Again, Hermione cut him off. She pressed her lips against his sloppily. Draco blinked for a half second before crushing her mouth with his. His hands caressed her back, cupping her neck. He felt the softness of her hair, ran his nails over her scalp. Hermione clawed at his robes, pushing them off his shoulders and starting in on his shirt. Draco pressed himself close to her, grabbing her hips and moving her toward the edge of the counter. Eagerly, her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him toward her. He ground his pelvis against her roughly, eliciting a small moan from her mouth.

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked while he worked the belt at her waist. Her hands had made quick work of his shirt and she dragged her fingers down his chest, nails leaving red lines on his skin. Finally, he shoved the belt off and ripped the front of her dress open leaving the buttons to pop and scatter over the bathroom floor. Her chest was bare save for the plain black bra that held her breasts back. Pulling his mouth away from hers, he began to lick and nibble her neck.

Hermione let out another moan as Draco cupped on breast in his hand, slipping past the bra to pinch one of her sensitive nipples. Her skin was soft beneath his hands, and almost feverish. He continued to kiss her neck, focusing on the spot below her ear with teeth and tongue. He twisted her nipple again, feeling her nails dig into shoulders. She tightened her legs around his waist in an attempt to grind some relief out against him. When it proved fruitless, her hands began to work the snaps on his pants.

Draco felt her eager, although clumsy hands at his pants. His dick was aching to be let out, throbbing in its cloth prison. He hissed a breath as she slipped a hand down under his boxers and stroked his length. Draco looked up and caught the sight of his reflection in the mirror behind Hermione. His face was flushed, beads of sweat dotted his brow. He almost didn’t recognize the man. He watched as Hermione squirmed against him in the mirror, her back was bare as her dress caught at her waist. The Firewhiskey bottle lay to the side on the counter, forgotten.

The situation was getting out of hand very, very quickly. Draco struggled to push through the fog in his head. How had they ended up like this? Draco pushed Hermione’s hands away and stepped back despite her mewls of displeasure. She reached out again to touch him and he caught both wrists in one hand. He pushed her wrists above her head, against the mirror.

“Granger. Listen to me. Look at me.” He demanded, voice harsh. She writhed against his grip, avoiding his eyes. He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his eyes. Her pupils were dilated and wild. Draco took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

“Granger. Do you understand what is happening right now?” Hermione stilled at his words, her chest heaving was the only movement between them. She was watching him cautiously. Draco let out a breath. “I need to know that you know what’s going on. I need you to say yes. Is this what you want?” Comprehension dawned in her eyes. Draco let go of her chin so she could speak. Her answer came slowly, almost painfully so. Hermione spoke evenly, meeting his eyes.

_“Yes.”_

Draco thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience with this story! Thank you for your kind words.

**Author's Note:**

> updated to fix some terrible formatting!


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